The Winchester Gospel
by Lady Abernathy Wordsmith
Summary: His name was Misha Collins, he had a wife and two children. He was a father, an actor, a poet and an athlete. He was the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker. But he wasn't always Misha. Once upon a time, he was an angel, an angel named Castiel. META, Supernatural RPF
1. Brothers once

Every morning, waking up with Vicky next to him, his first thought is; _'My name is Misha Collins'_ and he smiles.

He's an actor, a baker, and a candlestick maker, he plays an angel on a TV show, he guided writers and creators to make a story he knew and something the world could learn from.

And though he slept with nightmares, though he slept with a gun and angel blade under his pillow, though he worried whenever an unexplained _something_ happened, Misha loved his life, loved his tiny computer business and loved his wife-y.

Which was more than what Dmitri Krushnic could say. Dmitri was a man on a downward spiral, he was a hated man, he was the lazy drunk and miserable man at the end of the road that everyone avoided. He wanted a life that would mean something, he wanted a life that was more than eat, shit, work and sleep. He prayed to gods he didn't believe in, he prayed for an adventure and he prayed for someone, anyone, to save him from this eternal _boredom_.

And so, an angel graced him, answered his prayer, and gave the man an adventure of a lifetime. With Dmitri's body, apocalypses were avoided, lives were saved, and more angels had fallen. Because of Dmitri, an entire planet was saved, though he had done next to nothing.

That angel, in 2005, whispered into the ear of a writer with the last remaining remnants of his grace.

He walked that writer's dreams, told him a story that echoed through history, that monsters whispered about in the dark of the night and that hunters chattered about around a bar.

'The Winchester Gospel' wasn't a book, it was a TV show.

A few years passed, and season four auditions came around, Dmitri auditioned under the name Misha, and of course won the role.

"He's perfect, he's what I wanted." Kripie raved, pointing at Misha with a manic grin. "This is perfect, this is Castiel!"

And so, he took up the name Castiel once again.

Looking at the overcoat he was to wear, Misha couldn't stop the small smile. It wasn't exactly the same, it was brown instead of black, Jimmy Novak was a day-time ad salesmen and not a drunk, the Winchester's were named Dean and Sam and Castiel was still hopelessly loyal to them. Castiel was still hopelessly in love.

It felt so strange, to be acting like this again, being the foot solider to archangels, being the pawn in God's game, being the Winchester's personal atomic bomb.

But he wasn't, not anymore.

Standing in this dressing room, he was Misha Collin's, actor and husband and undeniably _human _Misha Collins. He wasn't Castiel, the Winchester Sword or a piece to be used in God's great plan.

"Do you hear me, Father? This is the greatest blasphemy I can think of." He mutters to himself in the mirror, making his tie a bit crooked as he leaves to the set, his hair mused and sticking up at all angles. A voice calls _'Action!'_, and Misha saunters through the barn doors, facing the man, Jensen Ackles, with a glower and sharp eyes. He hears a different voice whisper vaguely behind him; _'I'm so proud of my son.'_

_'I don't need your pride.'_ Is all Misha thinks in return, reaching with two fingers to touch Jim's forehead. _'I don't need you.'_

Waking up, it's the second thought that crosses his mind; '_I don't need you.'_

* * *

I'm surprised no one else has ever thought of this. There may be more if there's enough demand for it.


	2. Brothers Still

Daniel and Sean looked like ordinary men. Old coats, beat-up cadillac, and faces that would make even the ballsiest hustler take a sharp turn back to wherever they'd first come from, but they considered themselves decent people, more or less.

They lived at an undisclosed location somewhere in Illinois. On the outside, it looked like a massive storm drain tunnel that had been bricked up, and a single, heavy door stood in the center. Inside, though, it was home. It wasn't like the 'Men of Letters' bunker, no, it was around...ten times better. As creative as that set team was, they simply could never invoke the sense of history and knowledge the true inspiration had. 'The Light of Humanity' was less of catchy title, sure, but it was magnificent.

Daniel was not much like 'Dean' visually. He wasn't a teeny-bopper idol, he didn't look like a guy forever stuck in his mid-20 golden years, he wasn't a movie star or actor, but he did have a certain charm. At a staggering 40 years old, he had grey hair on top of his grey hair, his eyes weren't the 'most greenest green to ever green' and he wasn't a perfect looking person. His eyes were a muddled brown-grey that used to be green, his body was covered in scars, his nose was angled oddly due to a few too many punches in the face and his hands were perpetually stained black due to car grease.

Yes, at one time, he had been much more handsome, but years of truck stop burgers and fights with the unnamed horrors of the earth had worn at that beauty all too quickly, leaving him a pot-bellied man that looked about ten years older than he was.

His younger brother, Sean, was taller, but considerably less handsome than Jared Padalecki (though, to be fair, that level of 'DAMN' was almost humanly impossible). His decision to not cut his hair was more of a devotion to his rituals than a cosmetic choice, however. Using human hair was something often called upon in their best warding spells and incantations, and it was easier snipping off a lock or two than giving themselves bald patches (even if it did make Sean look homeless).

There were many differences between the show and reality, the Light of Humanity had been recruiting since its rediscovery some twenty odd years prior, and was as strong as ever. Daniel was mostly retired, living in a lovely duplex not far from the bunker, providing information and tracking monsters for the young'uns while Sean continued the organization, living with his family inside the bunker and teaching his daughter the ways of a true hunter, hoping that maybe she'd one day take over as leader.

Word of the show, 'Supernatural', had reached their ears by the time it was ending its third season when one young hunter had gone to ComiCon in 2008, intending to track down and kill a real vampire just as that whole 'Twilight' farce was starting up. He'd been accosted and told by various teenagers that they loved his 'Hunter OC' costume.

Many hunters were annoyed about the show, angry that their livelihoods were being used as television show fodder, but the Winchesters just...laughed.

They found that it was good thing, or, at the very least, it was harmless. And once those anti-demonic possession tattoos showed up in the show...Well, that was probably the best thing that show had ever done for 'actual' hunters. With thousands of fans getting that simple rune tattooed on themselves, it gave real demons fewer and fewer bodies to inhabit as the show gained popularity.

As season 4 began, Daniel began to watch in earnest. Every week, he'd park his butt in front of his tv and watch with his niece. She loved the show, even though she was technically living the aftermath of all it's plots herself.

Daniel found himself laughing so loud, he was wheezing when he saw that familiar, unaging face. Castiel, his dear, beloved Castiel standing before Jensen Ackles.

Lilith had to call for his assisted living nurse for help after he'd started wheezing.


End file.
